Isola
by Emzeer
Summary: What happens when the rebellious Altmer, Isola, is sent to live with her cousin, Elenwen in Skyrim, after causing much embarrassment to her family in the Summerset Isles? Does she learn to behave? Not when she meets a certain Jester, who influences her rebellious streak, and leads her down a dark and addictive path - Murder. Rated M to be sure, may or may not be lore friendly.
1. Troublemaker

Isola, a high-elf of the Somerset Isles, was considered an embarrassment to her family.

The day that she and her twin brother Ormirion were born, everyone was shocked to see not two boys in the cradle, but a boy and a girl! Everyone had been so sure that Estodilwe was carrying boys. The way she held herself and the size of her stomach made all around her certain that she would deliver boys.

This was the first time Isola was considered a disappointment. The second time came moments after her birth, once the initial shock of the unexpected female wore off. Although she was the spitting image of her mother, as new-borns go, there was one stark difference. Instead of having the golden eyes the rest of the family possessed, Isola's eyes were black. It was impossible to tell where the iris ended and the pupil began. Estodilwe and her husband, Sinedaen, were sure that this was a bad omen. Ormirion was born perfect, by Altmer standards anyway, as the twins grew, it became obvious who was the dominant twin.

During her childhood, Isola spent a lot of her time locked in her room as punishment for one misdoing or another. She was often accused of leading Ormirion into troublesome behaviour, like the time that Sinedaen was hosting dinner for a few high-ranking Thalmor members; During the interval between the main course and dessert, Isola and Ormirion ran into the dining hall, knocking a servant over in the process (both apologising to the poor woman immediately). Both children were covered in mud, and their fine clothes singed. The twins had been experimenting with their newly found talent – magicka, more specifically, fire shooting from the hands of unsupervised children. Then followed much hysteria from the twins exclaiming that they had only been practising their magicka as their tutors had taught them, but suddenly something went wrong and all of a sudden, their clothes and hair had caught aflame. After shooting his superiors a desperate look, Sinedaen dragged both children upstairs into Isola's room, shouted at them both louder than either twin had ever heard, barked at a servant to give them a bath, and slammed the door so violently that the horses in the courtyard whinnied in surprise.

Isola also had two older siblings, Astaine, the eldest child, was studious and quiet. She was fiercely attached to her parents, and would spend hours studying after her tutors had left for the day, determined to squeeze out as much knowledge from her tomes as she could. Isola liked Astaine, but was wary of her, as she spent a lot of time with her mother and father, she didn't wish to include Astaine in any of her schemes, for fear that her sister would be overcome with guilt and would tell Estodilwe and Sinedaen what was going on, landing Isola in trouble yet again.

Isola's older brother, Arinaro, was a carbon copy of their father. He was arrogant, self-assured and abysmally boring. As soon as he became of age, he began following his father around on official Thalmor business, hoping to one day become a Justiciar like his father. Isola detested him for the way he treated the family servants – Bosmer and Dunmer who had come to the home with the promise of a bed, food and a decent pay. While Isola treated the servants as she would a fellow Altmer, seeing them as no more or less important than herself, Arinaro could quite often be found shouting at a servant for not looking at the floor as he passed, convinced that they were unworthy of looking at him. He had on occasion beaten a servant so severely that a healer had to be called in, Sinedaen would make countless excuses for the behaviour, claiming that it was the right of the first born boy to assert his dominance, ready for when he has a family in the future. Isola was terrified for the poor sod who he'd end up marrying.

As Isola grew older, her childish misgivings and silly behaviour turned to other, more serious offences. As a young adult, she began stealing from local shops, was arrested for a drunken brawl which saw Arinaro's nose get broken in the ruckus (much to Isola's delight), and was given a public order banning her from using magicka in a public setting, after setting fire to the robes of one of her father's work colleagues (he had the audacity to try and squeeze her rear end when her father wasn't looking, he didn't believe her). To go with the public ban, Sinedaen imposed a full magicka ban on Isola, by use of a potent drain magicka potion which was slipped into her breakfast and supper.

This made Isola even more determined to cause trouble, if she couldn't cast spells, she would act out with the only other thing she was good at, archery. She would sneak out of the house and spend a lot of time shooting arrows at Arinaro as he attempted to court the daughters of many high ranking Thalmor, often causing them to run screaming about assassins and the return of the Dark Brotherhood. One day, Isola saw the bastard who had inappropriately touched her before leaving the residence, after a long evening of discussing plans with Sinedaen using gross terms for all other races which weren't Altmer. Isola sat on her window ledge, drew, and released the arrow, which embedded itself into the awful man's posterior. A cry of laughter left Isola as the man realised what had happened, Sinedaen came running out, and both turned to look in the direction of the heinous laughter emanating from the house. Sinedaen went ballistic at Isola, rousing Estodilwe and the other siblings out of sleep, who all gathered in Isola's room to watch the spectacle.

After much screaming, name calling and wishing she wasn't born, Sinedaen made plans for Isola to go and live with her cousin Elenwen in Skyrim. This was to teach her the correct way to behave as the daughter of a Thalmor justiciar, and Sinedaen hoped that the harsh climate of the province would straighten her out once and for all.

This is where our story begins.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think, constructive criticism is welcome! :)**


	2. Elenwen

**A/N: This might be quite a long read, I'm sorry if it's long winded, but I promise there will be action soon! Enjoy!**

Elenwen was Isola's cousin on her father's side, and they had been bitter enemies since they were children. Elenwen was only Isola's senior by five years, but you would think she was by fifty – constantly chiding her and telling tales to any and all adults who were supervising them. In the years since they last saw each other – when Isola was on the cusp of adolescence – they haven't spoken. Isola knew from hear-say that Elenwen was the same as she always was, sickly sweet to the point of pathetic when around people who could advance her career within the Thalmor regime, and absolutely vile to anyone else who may get in her way.

As the ship docked in Skyrim's capital city, Isola walked onto the deck to escape the smell of unwashed bodies and vomit-filled chamber pots. She could see two Altmer in golden armour, she deduced that they were here to take her to Elenwen. Her cousin probably thought that this would deter Isola from trying to escape. She wouldn't try anything, for now anyway, it was too soon and too predictable.

The guards didn't say very much, but Isola didn't really want to speak to them anyway. After getting past the pleasantries of "hello", and introducing herself as the errant, jail-bird cousin of the Ambassador to the Altmer and First Emissary to the Thalmor in Skyrim, words were not exchanged aside from a few grunts and the occasional bark for Isola to stop fidgeting on the carriage.

They arrived at the Thalmor Embassy to Skyrim at dusk, by which time Isola had regretted not bringing an over coat. The further that the carriage took them from Solitude, the colder and less forgiving the weather became, a layer of snow had begun to settle on Isola's long blonde hair, as her body couldn't warm up enough to melt it away as was the norm when out in these conditions for a short period. She wished that she could just die of frostbite there and then, and skip having to speak to Elenwen and pretend to be glad to be there.

Arriving at the door to Elenwen's residence – which she learned was called her Solar from one of the guards, Isola knew that she wasn't going to enjoy her stay. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the place – it was cold, not like the weather, but the people were cold, no one was smiling, not that Isola expected everyone to be skipping about and grinning from ear to ear. Something about them made her think that anyone who wasn't an Altmer should be treated as something unpleasant that one stepped in. Not that that was unusual for Thalmor types either.

Elenwen appeared from her office, she looked more or less as Isola remembered her – just slightly older, with a womanlier figure than when they'd last met. She looked Isola up and down, and a smirk formed on her lips.

"Isola. So good to see you, cousin." Elenwen drawled, insincerity dripping from each word.

"Elenwen." Isola replied, coldly. She wasn't one for forcing pleasantries.

"I trust your journey was… agreeable" Elenwen cocked her head to the side slightly. "I'm sure you felt right at home on the ship, you're used to prison cells aren't you? I'm sure that the small compartments would have made you feel like you were back there."

 _Tactful as ever, Elenwen!_ Isola thought, but remained silent, staring daggers at her cousin. After a moment, Elenwen straightened up.

"Take her to her room." She addressed the guards now. "Make sure she doesn't try to escape, and get her a towel, she's dripping all over the floor" Elenwen said with a note of disgust. Isola realised that the snow which has settled on her head was starting to melt, leaving a puddle where she stood. _Good._ She thought, she was happy that she'd only been in Elenwen presence a matter of minutes and already she had caused her some annoyance.

Elenwen skulked back to her study, and the guards motioned for Isola to follow them, she did so, but not before knocking the remaining snow from her hair and leaving it in a melting pile for Elenwen to find later.

Isola's room was in the basement, with the servants. The only difference was that Isola had her own room, albeit extremely small and was most likely used as a broom cupboard beforehand. It was dusty and smelled of damp, cobwebs adorning the corners where the ceiling met the wall. A single lantern sat on the end table, with a couple of books which looked pretty worse for wear, and the bed looked as if it were thrown out previously, then bought back in and put together in a rush once they were aware of Isola's imminent arrival.

For the rest of the evening, Isola stayed in her room, pleased for the peace and for steady ground under her feet. Elenwen didn't bother with her that night, which she was glad of. A servant bought in a bowl of soup, some bread and some cheese for supper, when Isola thanked the Khajit woman, she was so taken aback that she almost fell over! It soon became clear to Isola that servants to the Thalmor is Skyrim were treated about the same as they were in the Isles – like horse shit. This assumption was further proved when she left her room briefly to fill a bowl of water to wash her face in, all the staff looked at the floor as she passed, and jumped out of their skin when she asked if she could use some of the water boiling in the cooking pot. As soon as they realised that she was speaking to them like people, rather than things, they relaxed a little, still nervous of her, as it was a known fact around the Embassy that Elenwen's cousin was visiting, and all assumed that she would be the same as her cousin.

Isola slept fitfully that night, partly because her bed was lumpy, her room was cold and her furs were summer ones, which meant that if she moved even slightly, all of the body heat she had accumulated would dissipate, leaving her shivering.

The next few weeks dragged by, Isola was tasked with following Elenwen around on official business, having to don Thalmor robes and pull her hair into a tight braid whereas she usually let it fly free, and she had to stay quiet, for fear that she might upset the Justiciars. When Elenwen introduced her to people, she would describe her as her "little cousin who's come to learn the family business", which Isola hated. She would be met with patronising looks, and was treated like a child by other Altmer. She was probably the same age as them, if not older.

After the third week, Isola had had enough. She made plans to leave the Solar as soon as she could, though she had to plan it right – guards were constantly patrolling the grounds and she was constantly watched by them. She couldn't escape during first light, as that would be what they were expecting, the dead of night would also be too obvious, and she had on occasion noticed guards milling about outside her bedroom when night fell.

Eventually, she decided that she would escape whilst out of the Embassy, though she would need a distraction. She knew that in a couple of day's time, an outfit of Imperial soldiers, joined by the Thalmor, would be patrolling the boarders to Skyrim, looking for enemy troops – _Stormcloaks_ , as they came to be known. Isola concluded that if there was a fight, she would slip away whilst the guards and Elenwen weren't looking.

The day came, and as the carriage rolled to a stop next to the boarders, Isola struggled to keep her heart from racing. She was begging the Eight to let this work, so she could be free from her cousin and this oppressive regime.

It took a while, but finally, the rebel troop appeared, well, by troop, Isola saw two men clad in the Stormcloak colours. The ambush was quick, Imperials yelling for the men to get down, one of the men was gagged, which Isola couldn't understand, what was he going to do? Shout at them? Say nasty words about their mothers? Isola quickly pushed the thought away, this was her chance. As Elenwen exited the carriage to assist the guards, firing paralysis spells about the place, Isola bunked from the carriage, and began to run. She could already hear her name being yelled by Elenwen, demanding that she came back at once. She ignored her and kept running, until…

Something hit Isola hard in the back, it was hot and heavy, and it threw her to the ground.

 _A paralysis spell!_ Isola thought _Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!_

She heard someone approaching from behind…

"I knew this day would come." Elenwen seethed. "You just couldn't help yourself, could you Isola?"

Of course, Isola couldn't say anything.

"I asked your father what should be done in the event that you attempt an escape, he recommended putting you in prison for as long as it took for you to straighten out." At this point, Isola heard two other sets of boots approaching her. "I'm sure you're aware that I didn't want to take you on in the first place, I have hated you since you were young, and I hoped never to see you again." Elenwen paused, and seemed to ponder something for a moment.

"Guards, put her on the carriage to Helgen. I want rid of this wench once and for all."

"Madame Elenwen, are you sure? What about your Uncle's wishes? What will you tell him?" One of the guards enquired.

"I will tell him that I have sent her to prison, and she will spend her remaining days there, for the murder of one of our own. He'll believe every word of it, and no doubt, he will say that it was only a matter of time."

"As you wish, Madame." The guards footsteps approached Isola's paralysed form, and Elenwen shot one last look at her cousin.

"Goodbye, Isola." She said, and before Isola could think any more, she was hit in the head with something heavy and metallic at the temple, and was knocked unconscious.

Helgen awaited her.

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Make sure to leave a review!**


	3. Helgen

**Hello again! This chapters been a bit of a nightmare to put up, I originally put it up a few days back, but I got a message telling me that the chapter had code formatting on it, so I've been trying to sort it out, so if theres any random line breaks which I've missed or anything else that doesn't look quite right, please let me know! :)**

 _Oh Gods_ Isola thought, her head still fuzzy from being knocked out. _This is it._

Her head was on the block. She was going to die. Her family would never know what happened, Elenwen would never tell them the truth, or maybe she'd warp the truth, say that she died in prison after starting a brawl… Either way, it didn't matter, this was the end of the line for Isola.

She bought her thoughts round to those who would actually miss her, Astaine may quietly mourn with her mother, her father, maybe not. Arinaro, he wouldn't mourn at all, he just saw her as an inconvenience. Ormirion, oh Gods, Ormirion…

Suddenly, just as the headsman bought his axe up…

"DRAGON!" The Imperial Captain shouted.

She wasn't wrong, on the top of a tower now sat a great beast, black scales and horns which looked sharper than the best sword. Eyes red, like blood, the terrible thing took a breath in, Isola expected to be burned alive by flames, but no, out of the dragon's mouth came something else, which sounded almost like speech, and a horrible bang sounded, loud enough to stagger Isola and blur her vision. Once her vision came back, she saw that the sunny day had turned into merciless storm clouds – large, flaming rocks falling from the heavens.

She had no time to think, she was up and running with a Nord called Ralof, who was on the carriage with her, the ground shaking under the force of the dragon's wings as it took flight.

"No going back that way, the others will have to find another way out." Ralof said, as rocks and debris fell onto the path they had just taken. They were under Helgen, in a cave, some beams of light streaming through holes in the roof, faint roars of the dragon could be heard, along with the screams of the residents of Helgen.

Isola and Ralof made their way through the cave, sneaking past a bear, quickly they found the exit.

"Thank you, I wouldn't have made it without you." Ralof said, "My sister, Gerdur lives in Riverwood, she should be able to help you out with supplies. It's probably best if we split up from here."

"Is there much point? I doubt that dragon's going to look for us. He just seemed oblivion-bent on destroying whatever he could." Isola retorted, Ralof considered for a moment, then nodded. "Also, I've no idea where Riverwood is, as you can probably tell – " she gestured to her features " – I'm not from here."

"Right, fair point, lets get moving then" Ralof relented.

They chatted most of the way to the village, with a few comfortable silences in between. Isola saw no harm telling Ralof about herself, considering that he was a Stormcloak, which she now knew meant that he had a healthy hatred for the Empire and for the Thalmor. She didn't think he would rat her out.

"So, you know how… Hadvar, was it? Said that my name wasn't on the list?" Isola said.

"Uh huh. Thought that was weird, but I thought it just the Empire missing you because of how many of us they caught" Ralof mused. It turned out that Isola only witnessed the first part of the ambush – which was when she saw Ralof and a man she now knew to be Ulfric Stormcloak. On the way to Helgen, after waking up, she saw another carriage ahead with probably five or so more men headed for the block.

"Well, I am actually the cousin of Elenwen, the Altmer First Emissary and the Ambassador of the Thalmor in Skyrim" Isola spat the words, rolling her eyes so hard that it made her head hurt again. Ralof stopped and stared at her, ah, he knew who she was, she was sure that she saw his hand twitch toward the hilt of his sword, though he seemed to think better of it.

"It's alright, I'm not a Thalmor." She reassured him.

"So, why were you being sentenced to death, if you have family in the Thalmor?"

"Back at home – The Summerset Isle, I have a reputation for trouble. I am considered a disgrace to my family. My father sent me to Skyrim to live with Elenwen, after I shot an arrow at one of his friends" Isola smirked.

"I dare say he deserved it?" Ralof asked cautiously.

"He did, absolutely. Anyway, I stayed with her for a little while, and whilst we were out on that ambush, I tried to make a run for it… and as you can tell, it didn't work."

"You were going to be sent to the block, wouldn't your family have something to say about that?"

"They wouldn't have known, I overheard Elenwen before I was knocked out, she would tell my father that I was in prison. Elenwen is very manipulative, and my father gullible when it comes to her. He will believe every word she says."

"Damn, that must hurt." Isola considered this for a moment, and felt a pang of sadness, she quickly brushed it off.

"I suppose, but I'm free now. I can live how I want, although I will have to lay low for a while, maybe cut my hair off, no doubt Elenwen will have the Thalmor on high alert if she finds out I've escaped…"

Ralof thought for a moment, focussing on a spot in the distance.

"Don't quote me on this, but rumour has it there is a woman in Riften who can change your face, she's down in the Ratways apparently, nasty place. Wouldn't recommend it personally, but if you're desperate, it might be worth investigating."

"I'll consider it."

"One more thing, and I promise I'll stop asking questions, how did you end up in prisoner clothes? Did Elenwen keep you in rags?"

It was Isola's turn to stop in surprise, she hadn't even considered that, in between waking up feeling dizzy and sick, and the dragon attacking, she didn't even think where her robes had gone. The thought made her feel sick with anger. _How DARE they!_

"They must've changed me when I was knocked out." Isola said tersely. This seemed to stop Ralof from asking further questions.

A pause, the pair were at Riverwood. It was a fairly small village, which Isola found quite charming. The air smelled of freshly cut wood from the mill, and a slight smoky smell which emanated from the blacksmith's smelter. Isola followed Ralof around one of the small houses, where she spies a blonde woman, also a Nord, who she guesses is Gerdur. Ralof soon confirmed her belief.

"Gerdur!" He shouted, making the poor woman jump and turn around so quickly that she nearly loses her footing.

"By the Gods! Ralof! You scared the life out of me!" Gerdur nearly shouted, wrapping her brother in what looked to be a bone-crushing hug.

"Its good to see you too, Sister." Ralof managed to say under the crushing embrace, Gerdur soon let go.

"And who is this?" Gerdur enquired, looking at Isola, she seemed cautious, which she couldn't blame her for, maybe she thought that she was a Thalmor spy.

"This is Isola, she helped me escape Helgen," Ralof seemed to sense his sister's unease "But, she isn't what you think, I know you're worried my dear sister, but without this woman, I would have died today."

Gerdur relaxed a little, and smiled at Isola.

"Thank you for helping my brother. But what of Helgen? How did you escape?"

"Raised to the ground. A dragon attacked as my head was on the block." Isola atated, and Gerdur went white.

"The block? A dragon? Ralof, what happened? Where you taken by the Imperials? Oh Gods I told you that joining the rebellion was dangerous! Is it safe for you to be here? We heard that they'd captured Ulfric Stormcloak—"

"Gerdur, it's okay, I'm here now." Ralof interrupted. Gerdur took a deep breath, and straightened up. "Is there somewhere we can talk? I'd rather not discuss this out in the open." Gerdur nodded, and beckoned for Isola and Ralof to follow. They walked around to the mill, where another Nord man was lugging lumber onto a log saw.

"Hod! Come here a minute. I need your help with something." Gerdur called.

The big Nord turned to face them, "What is it woman? Sven drunk on the job again?" Hod chortled.

"Hod. Just come here." Gerdur was beginning to sound exasperated.

Hod looked over at the group, realisation on his face.

"Ralof! What are you doing here? I'll be right down!" Hod turned on his heel and ran, meeting the trio.

"Let's get in the house, quickly now." Gerdur said. They all followed.

The house was cosy, something was cooking in the pot by the fire which made Isola's stomach hurt with hunger – she hadn't eaten since, well, she couldn't remember when she'd last eaten.

Gerdur had poured them all a tankard of ale, and sat them around the table, offering Isola and Ralof healing potions to remedy their various cuts and bruises, Isola's head was still pounding where the Thalmor Guard knocked her out, so she finished the potion in one gulp.

"…And then, from nowhere, the dragon attacked, chaos everywhere, the thing turned the weather with it's voice!" Ralof recounted. Isola nodded, and added:

"We managed to escape through the Keep, and then through some tunnels."

"What of the dragon? Did you see where it went… Did it get killed?" Hod asked.

"No, as far as we could tell, he flew off, to the North I believe" Ralof's face dropped.

"Towards Whiterun, and towards here!" He breathed. "We have to get word to the Jarl, enough innocent people have died by that foul beast today." Ralof stood up, and Gerdur mirrored his movements.

"I won't have you go, you two have been through enough today. Let me find Hunjorn, I'll get him to send word." Gerdur ordered.

"Sister, it won't take us long to get to Whiterun. We can be there and back in a night." Ralof argued. Isola nodded, even though she didn't know how long it would actually take.

"I don't care how long it will take, both of you have been through Oblivion and back today. Hunjorn is a trusted friend of mine. He's trusted by the Jarl to deliver correspondence to the surrounding holds. You two will stay tonight and I will get Hunjorn to go." Gerdur said this with such authority that even Isola didn't want to argue, although, she was glad that she didn't have to travel far, she was exhausted.

There wasn't enough room in Gerdur and Hod's house for Isola and Ralof to stay, so Gerdur put them up at the Inn. After having dinner with Gerdur and Hod – the food cooking on their pot was left too long whilst they discussed the day's events and ended up burning, so they elected to eat at the Inn, where they were joined by Gerdur and Hod's son, Frodnar. Isola started to feel even better, her stomach was full of stew, and her rags were replaced with a dress which was lent to her by Gerdur. After dinner, Hod ordered them all some mead, which was drank very quickly indeed, he then ordered some more, and then more again…

"Okay Hod, that's enough" Gerdur said, slurring a little. "We have to get Frodnar to bed, it's very late" Frodnar was in deep conversation with Ralof, who was telling him stories of combat and victory. Frodnar's eyes glittered as his uncle recounted a story involving an Imperial rolled his eyes at his wife, but obliged. He stood up and put his hand on his son's shoulder.

"Come on Frodnar, time to go home, you need to go to bed."

"But Papa! Uncle Ralof was going to tell me another story! Come on, just one more!"

Frodnar whined. Hod looked to his wife, who shook her head.

"You can hear more stories tomorrow, Frod. For now, you need to rest." Frodnar obliged, but not without huffing loudly.

"Goodnight, Uncle Ralof, see you tomorrow!" Frodnar bid his uncle goodbye. "And goodnight, Isola, it was nice to meet a high-elf who isn't a total wench!"

"FRODNAR!" Gerdur shouted. Isola burst out laughing, she had to agree. "I am so sorry, Isola." Gerdur apologised profusely.

"Don't… worry… about it…. That's the best thing… I've heard today!" Isola managed to say between fits of giggles.

After the family had left, Isola and Ralof drank some more. They were in good spirits, and could barely stand by the time the barkeep called last orders.

"One more? On me?" Isola asked, very drunk.

"Are you sure? You haven't got a lot" Ralof enquired, "Wouldn't want you to spend what little gold you have on drink" Isola laughed, and pulled a coin purse from under her dress.

"This was behind the bar," she whispered, although it was fairly loud, "I took it when the barkeep wasn't looking" and she collapsed into giggles yet again. Ralof shot her a disapproving look, but ended up laughing along, the keep would get his money back, so technically, she hadn't stolen anything.

"You really are something else, Isola," with that, Isola winked at him, and went to the bar for their last drink of the night, after ordering two meads, she slapped the barkeep's money onto the bar, which was taken obliviously. Isola managed to get the majority of the mead back to the table, after much sloshing around in their tankards, which then spilled onto the floor, and onto the table as Isola sat down.

"Drink up, pretty boy." Isola slurred, and began to down her drink, Ralof followed suit, Isola finished her drink first and slammed her tankard onto the table.

"Pretty boy, eh?" Ralof enquired, "What does that make you then, big tits?" Isola was taken aback by this, but Ralof wasn't wrong. Isola had always been considered 'well endowed' in the breast department, and her new dress wasn't exactly hiding this fact.

"I can go with big tits!" Isola retorted, "Want to see them?" she began pulling at the dress, breasts out before Ralof could even protest.

"Woah Woah! Put those away!" He said as he covered his eyes, he may be drunk, but he wasn't about to see a woman expose herself in public, Gods only knew who was watching and might try to take advantage, he did have to admit, they were rather lovely….

Ralof mentally slapped himself, and watched as Isola put her breasts back in their band. She looked a little upset with his reaction. He leaned into her, and said in a hushed tone "It's not that I don't want to see them, its more that I don't want anyone else to" Isola looked up at him, a smirk on both of their faces.


	4. Moving Forward

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while! This is a bit of a "filler" Chapter, to lead up to the interesting bits of the story, so I've been a bit stuck on it because my minds been on later chapters! Hope you enjoy it anyway and leave a review!**

The sex from the previous night was sloppy, though very enjoyable. Ralof certainly knew how to work a woman, which left Isola wondering what he would be like if he were sober…

They both awoke with pounding heads and uneasy stomachs, Isola couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard Ralof talking about getting breakfast to ease the hangover. Isola wasn't ready to eat, or to move from her bed.

She fell back asleep for a time, only to be woken by Gerdur entering the room, who looked around at the evidence of the previous night's antics.

"Mara's Mercy…" she said, surveying the mess – clothes thrown around and crumpled, Isola with huge dark circles under her eyes, and the dress she'd lent her covered in dried mead and… Gods only knew what else. Gerdur composed herself and looked at Isola, "Ralof said you were looking a little worse for wear, I thought you could do with this," She held up a small red bottle, not unlike the health potions she'd taken yesterday. "This is a potion of well-being, very hard to get hold of outside of Solstheim" Isola had no idea where this place was, but she took the potion from Gerdur, holding her furs to her chest – she didn't really want Gerdur to see her naked.

The potion tasted bitter, and burned slightly as it went down, it was a little too much like the burning of alcohol as it slides down one's throat. The potion nearly came back up, but Isola persevered and kept it down. It took a few minutes, but she began to feel better – even a bit hungry.

"I'm sorry about your dress," Isola said to Gerdur, looking at the floor.

"It's fine, normally, I wouldn't be pleased, but considering that you saved my brother's life yesterday, I'll let it slide" She paused for a minute. "What are your plans now? Where will you go from here?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Isola replied. "I might head to Whiterun, maybe the Jarl needs to hear from someone who was at Helgen about the dragon".

"I wouldn't worry about it, this morning we had a surge in guard numbers. Hunjorn must've got there quickly."

"You never mentioned who he was, aside from him being a good friend"

"He's a local courier, and a very good friend of mine. If I give him something to deliver, he's got it to the recipient within a week, locally, within a day."

"I'll have to remember him should I ever need to send word to a Jarl again" Isola smiled, and Gerdur smiled back.

At around noon, Isola was set to leave Riverwood. Gerdur had provided her with some supplies, weapons, some spare clothes and a set of iron armour, "in case of bandits", she had joked, although Isola wasn't so sure.

She thought it might be best to head to Whiterun, if Elenwen was looking for her, she'd need to keep moving. If Whiterun was bigger than Riverwood, it would make her harder to find. She started over the bridge, taking a last look at the small village, she'd come back one day and repay Gerdur's kindness, how she wasn't sure yet –

"Isola!" Ralof interrupted her thoughts, he was running up to meet her, stopping close to her. "Where are you headed?"

"I was going to Whiterun" She replied, "Where are you going?"

"Windhelm, it's the home of the Stormcloaks. I was thinking, I mean, if you wanted to, you could come with me, it would be nice to have company since it's a long way" Ralof inclined his head towards the ground, peering up through his blonde hair.

Isola considered for a moment. "So, you're after someone to warm your bedroll whilst you travel, what happens when we get there? Will you enrol me into the rebellion against my will?" Ralof seemed taken aback by this, and Isola thought that he might be used to women who would see the puppy eyes and melt into a puddle.

"No, well, yes, but – "

"Let me put this simply, I'm not going to be your whore. I'm not going to join a faction I know near nothing about. I want to make my own choices, I'm entirely free to do that now that my parents and Elenwen aren't constantly watching me. Also, if I were to go with you, what chance would there be that, should Elenwen discover that I'm not dead, she would immediately assume I've fallen in with the Stormcloaks? Wouldn't that be a tad obvious?"

Ralof was stuck for words, he looked over the bridge, into the water below, and Isola thought that he was contemplating jumping in from embarrassment. After a moment, he turned to face her again.

"I understand. I won't force you to join us if you're not comfortable with it, but you've seen the Empire in it's full force, you've seen what they're allied with. If you did come with me, I would respect you, and I wouldn't sleep with you if you told me no."

He was pandering to her, she could tell, as much as Isola liked Ralof, she couldn't spend all her time with him. It would be good to travel together though, since Isola wasn't familiar with Skyrim bar the Thalmor Embassy and the odd icy wasteland that Elenwen dragged her to.

"I'll come with you, but I won't stay with you." Isola said, this would stop Ralof from getting any ideas.

"That's fine, you can stay at Candlehearth Hall" Ralof replied, and walked ahead of her. "Shall we get moving?"

Isola caught up to him, and they began their trip to Windhelm.


	5. Grief and Murder

Isola had been in Windhelm for the best part of 30 minutes, and already she'd caused a scene.

As she'd entered the gate, she witnessed two Nord men harassing a Dunmer woman. (Ralof and her had said their goodbyes moments before, and Ralof left for the Palace of the Kings) It soon became apparent that these two men were accusing the Dunmer of being an Imperial spy, this was followed by a lot of disgusting slurs that one wouldn't expect even the lowest vagrant to utter.

Being an Altmer, Isola matched their height. She walked right up to one of them – the other appeared to be a homeless person, and tapped him on the shoulder.

The Nord turned, looked her up and down, and sneered.

"And what do we have here? Another Elven whore moving into this fine city? Pah!" The man spat on the ground, narrowly missing Isola's shoe. _Pig._

"I would like to ask you to stop harassing this woman. She's clearly done nothing to you. Walk away now." Isola said in her calmest tone.

"Are you fucking kidding me!? This grey-skin, and all the rest of 'em are a menace! Taking our jobs, eating our food, and refusing to help – "

"The Stormcloaks, yes, I heard your little tirade. No need to repeat yourself dear." This seemed to make the man even angrier, and he turned a little red.

"Don't you interrupt me, you Elven scum! I am a NORD! And you want to know who Skyrim belongs to? THE. NORDS.!" He was shouting in Isola's face, his bad breath right in her nose. Isola gave him a disgusted look.

"This woman has a right to live here. As do all of the _Dunmer_ ," - She made sure to emphasise the word – "In this city. Move along now and leave her be."

"You want me to leave her alone. Fine. Tell you what, I'll fight you for it. My name is Rolff Stone-Fist, with good reason, I've _never_ lost a fight, and I'll smash your ugly, high-elf face in!"

"Well, _Rolf Stone-Fist_ , you've just made a big mistake." And Isola swung hard at the man, hitting his temple and knocking him sideways. Rolff recovered, a look of pure rage in his eyes. The other man slipped away at this point, seeing the force with which Isola hit Rolff with.

"You'll pay for that, you little cunt." And he swung back. Isola narrowly missed it, and swung for him again.

The brawl was bloody, and attracted the attention of passers-by. Driven by her new-found hatred for Rolff, Isola managed to back him into the wall of the Inn, after he landed a rather nasty punch which split her lip. Rolff went to swing at her again, at full force. He was cornered and was using the last of his energy to fight as hard as he could. Isola dodged this last punch, which caused Rolff to overbalance. She took the opportunity to pin him against the brick, he smacked his head hard, and tried in vain to struggle away. With her free hand, Isola pulled a dagger from her belt, holding it to Rolff's throat.

"Now listen, you pathetic little man. You will leave the Dunmer alone, you will not harass them, you will not call them names and _you will not threaten them."_ She pushed the dagger into the thin skin of his throat, drawing a little blood. Rolff made a strained grunting noise, which Isola knew was one of fear. "Have I made myself clear, Rolff?"

"Yeaffshhh" Rolf managed to choke out under the weight of Isola's arm and the threat of the blade.

Isola took the blade away, swiping it hard enough to leave a small cut. After moving her arm, Rolff fell to the ground, panting hard.

"You're a cunt. A fucking Elf cunt." Rolff muttered.

"Did you say something, dear?" Isola knelt down to him, putting the dagger under his chin, pushing it up so that his face moved with the weapon. Rolff's eyes widened as he realised his mistake.

"N-nothing." He stammered. Isola stood up.

"Get up." She walked over to the Dunmer woman who watched the whole thing. "Follow me, Rolff."

He obeyed, eyeing the dagger still in Isola's hand. He stopped just behind Isola, staring at the ground.

"What's your name?" Isola asked the Dunmer.

"Suvaris. Suvaris Atheron" The Dunmer woman replied.

"Rolff, do you have something to say to our friend Suvaris?"

"I'm sorry, I won't harass you again." Rolff mumbled.

"Little louder please dear, I don't think she heard you"

"I'm sorry, I won't harass you again." He said a little louder. Isola looked to the small crowd that formed during the fight.

"One more time for the people in the back dear!" Isola said loudly.

"I'M SORRY, I WON'T HARASS YOU AGAIN! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?" Rolff screamed, clearly humiliated.

"Good." Isola grabbed his shoulders, and turned him around, giving him a little push "Off you pop now, petal!"

Rolff stumbled slightly and walked away, head down, and the crowd started to dissipate. Isola turned back to Suvaris.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you. No one's ever stood up for me – or any of my family or fellow Dunmer – like that since we arrived in this city. It's nice to meet someone who doesn't think of us as lesser than skeevers." Suvaris responded, seeming to relax a little.

"I'm sorry you've been treated so poorly."

"It's alright, one gets used to it after a while."

Isola turned to look at Rolff, who'd stumbled out of sight, which was probably for the best.

"Should he ever bother you again, let me know. My name is Isola." She said, turning back to face Suvaris.

"Thank you, Isola. If you're ever in need of anything – A bed, a blade, a drink – do come and find me, you're welcome in the Atheron household."

Isola sat at the bar of Candlehearth Hall, it was gloriously warm in there, especially for an Altmer who wasn't accustomed to Skyrim's colder regions. She'd eaten a good meal of bread, cheese and stew. She was starving after the fight, and the travelling rations from the journey to Windhelm hadn't exactly filled her up.

Elda, the barkeep, was deep in hushed conversation with her server. Isola did the best she could to listen in on their conversation, over the chatter of the patrons and the music of the bards. She managed to catch a cluster of words…

"… Aventus Aretino... performing the Black Sacrament" The blonde server mumbled.

"You don't mean?" Elda enquired, a worried look on her face.

"He's summoning the Dark Brotherhood" The blonde finished.

Isola recognised the name, she'd heard about the Dark Brotherhood from her parents, she had thought it didn't even exist anymore, not after hearing about several sanctuaries being burned to the ground in Cyrodiil.

Isola had a brainwave. She didn't know if the Brotherhood still existed in Skyrim, but, maybe she could pose as an assassin, help out the child in question and get paid a healthy sum of coin to keep her going for a while – pickpocketing and stealing money from shops was getting a tad tiresome.

The same night, Isola located the Aretino household. She picked the lock and entered the house. Going up the stairs, she found that the temperature of the house wasn't much different to the icy weather outside. She had found that most places in Skyrim had a roaring hearth, probably to drive away the cold. Isola found that, contrary to this common practise, the hearth in this house was out.

She heard the sound of a boy's voice, probably no older than about 10, chanting a strange passage, the sound of soft thudding peppering his chant.

She came upon the scene, a boy, as she'd thought, was bent over a ghastly effigy – a human skeleton, with a human heart and what looked like human flesh encircled by candles. The boy was stabbing at the effigy, leaving little notches in the wooden floor.

"Sweet Mother, sweet Mother – " The boy began his chant again, Isola cleared her throat, causing the boy to whip his head up from the effigy.

"Aventus Aretino?" Isola asked.

"You've come! I knew you would! I was sure I was doing the Sacrament right, with the body and the… things! And now you're here! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!" Aventus effused, almost jumping on the spot.

Isola wasn't expecting such an enthusiastic reaction.

"Yes… an assassin…" nodded, she felt in over her head already. "Why don't you tell me why someone as young as you needs someone killed?"

"My mother… she died, and I was sent to that awful orphanage in Riften… _Honourhall!"_ He spat the word. "The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible! To all of us!"

The boy looked extremely underfed, his eyes were sunken into his skull, and his cheek bones were protruding in a way that wasn't natural.

"So I ran away, and came back here, and that's when I started the Sacrament, I don't even know how long it's been since I began!" Aventus sounded as if he was about to sob, which Isola really, desperately hoped he wouldn't. She wasn't accustomed to dealing with crying children. She thought the best option would be a quick distraction…

"Okay, Honourhall Orphanage, is there anything else I should know about this woman?" Isola enquired.

"Aside from the fact that she's a cruel bitch, I don't think so." Aventus mused.

Isola nodded, and began to make her way out of the house. Before taking the stairs to the front door, she turned back to survey the room. It really was a sorry state. She walked up to the hearth, pushing aside the long-cold cooking pot. The wood in the hearth was still fairly fresh, and didn't look damp. Remembering that she hadn't had her magicka supressed for some time now, she attempted to summon a flame to her hand.

It took some concentration and uttering of several swear words, but finally, Isola set the logs ablaze. She could feel Aventus's eyes on her the whole time.

"You must be freezing, sit by the fire and keep warm." She ordered. "If the flames start to die, you'll need some more firewood, can you get some whilst I'm gone?", and Aventus nodded in compliance. Colour was beginning to come back to his face when she left. Hopefully, he wouldn't freeze to death while she was away.

Isola entered the orphanage only to be greeted by a tirade of abuse. Not aimed at her, but at the residents of the terrible place.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?" An older woman barked, whom Isola assumed was Grelod.

"Yes, Grelod." At least five children responded, all sounding incredibly beaten down.

"And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you'll always be here, until you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world. Now, what do you all say?" Grelod spat. Isola felt rage burning in the pit of her stomach. No one deserved to be spoken to like that, especially children who have lost their parents!

"We love you Grelod, thank you for your kindness" The children recited. It was clear that there were no real thanks there. If anything, Isola deduced that it was more of a thanks for a verbal bashing rather than a physical one.

Isola gripped her dagger, working herself up to the kill. She stepped out from the shadows, and said, quietly enough not to startle the children, but loud enough for them to hear:

"Children, turn around and away from Grelod."

The children looked confused for a second, then obliged. This struck Isola as rather odd, considering that her voice definitely wasn't familiar to them.

"And just _WHAT_ is the meaning of this!?" Grelod demanded. "You cannot walk in here, uninvited, and tell these brats what to do! Get out, GET OUT!" Isola wasn't fazed by the woman's screeches, as she began to walk towards her.

"Aventus says hello." She dead panned.

Isola drove the dagger into Grelod's throat, she dragged it from one side to the other, creating a deep wound which couldn't be recovered from. Spraying blood all over her, the walls and the floor. She turned on her heel and left silently, only to hear the screams of another woman, maybe an assistant, as she discovered Grelod's body. Isola began running, realising the gravity of the situation if she were caught. She left the city still running at full pelt. Never in her life had she felt more powerful, more dangerous, freer. _So much freer!_

 **A/N: This chapter was a pleasure to write! Hopefully you enjoyed too! Please leave a review! :)**


	6. Stalked

Isola was pretty sure she was being followed.

Ever since she got a strange note from a courier a few days ago, which was embellished with a black hand print, and only two words below it:

 _We Know._

Isola had taken it to be a joke at first, or maybe a warning from Elenwen. Since she couldn't be sure if it was indeed the latter, Isola kept a low profile.

She was now in Morthal, it was a strange little town, with rumours of deceit and murder flying around the Inn. Isola didn't really care for the rumours, she really just wanted a quiet few days.

She pulled her hood further over her head, nursing her mead; it was fairly late so the Inn was emptying slowly.

After a little while, she retired to her room. Aventus had given her a family heirloom – a plate of all things – in return for the murder of Grelod. Isola quickly sold it, only earning about 100 gold from it, but it was better than nothing. She was set up for a little while before she had to start stealing people's coin purses again.

She changed and readied herself for bed, pulling the furs right up to her chin and cocooning herself in them. She was finding it easier to sleep, as another day had gone by where she wasn't spotted by a Thalmor agent. She was starting to think that Elenwen might just believe she was dead. She slept with a dagger under her pillow, just in case someone had spotted her, and came to take her away in the night.

Isola woke in the middle of the night, with an unsettling feeling that she was being watched. She lay very still, eyes wide open and the hilt of the dagger in hand. The presence moved, and Isola tensed up further, ready to attack. Closer they came. Closer. Closer…

Isola jumped from her bed, dagger in hand. In the dim light, she saw that no one was there. Still on high alert, Isola whipped around, maybe the person – or thing – shot behind her. That was a mistake, as she turned, an arm caught her throat, holding her there, barely able to breathe.

Isola struggled against the constricting arm, trying to bend her arm backwards to stab the intruder. It was proving futile. Because of the choke hold she couldn't even scream out for help.

The hold tightened, and Isola began to see spots. She felt dizzy from the lack of air reaching her lungs.

"Who… are… you?" She managed to choke out, as her vision began to blur.

She couldn't be sure, but as she slipped into unconsciousness, she was sure she heard a woman say:

"All in good time, dear. All in good time."

 _What happened?_

 _Am I dead?_

 _No, I can't be…_

 _Surely not…_

Isola's thoughts swirled and smacked against each other. She had no idea how long she'd been out for. Her vision was blurred as she opened her eyes, and immediately she knew that she wasn't in her room in Morthal anymore.

"Sleep well?" A woman's voice enquired, it was smooth like velvet. Casual almost.

Isola's eyes shot around, finding a woman in red and black armour sitting atop a book case, watching her intently.

"What… Where am I? Who are you?" Isola shot questions at the woman, sounding more and more frantic with each enquiry.

"Does it matter? You're warm, dry... and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod. Hmm?" The mysterious woman drawled. Isola felt her stomach drop.

"You… know about that?"

"Half of Skyrim knows! Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around. Oh, but don't misunderstand…" The woman's words fade out as Isola put the pieces together. She killed Grelod, then, a couple of days later, she received that strange note. Now, a couple of days after that, she's been kidnapped by a strange woman.

 _Oh Shit._

This was an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._

"… Ah, but there is a slight… problem" The woman's words faded back into Isola's focus.

"A problem?"

"You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates." – _Shit.- "_ Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill... that you stole. A kill you must repay."

Isola was slightly relieved. She thought that she was going to be killed for Grelod's murder. She knew that it was awful, but she was glad that someone else would die today, and not her.

"Okay, you want me to murder someone else then? Who?"

Isola breathed heavily as the burly Nord choked out a final scream. Three bodies now lay on the floor of the shack. The assassin – Astrid, as Isola soon found out – had captured three people, one of which was to be murdered to repay her debt. Vasha was the first to die. There was something about him that made Isola's blood boil. Maybe it was the fact that he bragged so openly about being _the defiler of daughters_ , Isola always had a particular hatred for men who thought they could force themselves on women, especially those who were barely of age. Vasha ticked all of those boxes. He died in the same manner as Grelod. His blood spattering the walls and Isola.

Alea was the second to die, and finally, Fultheim. In truth, after killing Vasha, Isola's adrenaline levels spiked beyond anything she'd ever experienced before, and killed the others in a frenzy. Blood and viscera covered her, she could smell copper in the air and she could hear the last breaths of her victims as they choked to death on their own blood.

"My my, aren't we the overachiever?" Astrid congratulated her.

"You told me to kill, and I killed." Isola affirmed, staring intently at Astrid. "Who had the contract out on them anyway?"

"Oh no, don't you see dear? It doesn't matter. Like you said, I asked you to kill, and you did just that. Indiscriminately. Without politics or religious beliefs getting in the way, you eliminated the target."

Isola considered this for a moment, it did make sense, she supposed.

Astrid then formally invited her to become a member of the Brotherhood, gave her directions to their Sanctuary and also told her the passphrase which would grant her access.

"It's quite funny, we aren't that far from the Inn I took you from" Astrid mused, making Isola aware of the ache which clung to her neck. She was sure it'd bruise. "I must apologise for the choke hold. Normally I would have spiked your mead, but things came up and unfortunately I arrived too late to do so."

She didn't really know how to respond, so Isola kept quiet.

"I'll take you back there, if you like. Do make your way home soon though. We could use an extra blade" Isola took up Astrid's offer, and mounted her horse – a black stallion with red, glowing eyes. It was beautiful, and Isola was slightly envious of Astrid's mount.

The two rode in comfortable silence most of the way, exchanging a few words here and there, and saying pleasant goodbye-for-nows once Astrid reached Morthal.

Isola took to her room, paying the barkeep for another night's stay. She would leave tomorrow, after a proper rest and a clean-up. She'd washed the worst of the blood off before leaving the shack, in the muddle swamp water, which left her dirtier than before.

The barkeep bought her a bowl of water and a wash rag. She closed the door to her room and stripped off, scrubbing herself until the water was the colour of dried blood. Hopefully the keep would just think it was dirt. Dinner that night was pretty much the same as the night before, with an extra tankard of mead to calm the adrenaline that still pulsed through Isola's veins.

That night before bed, Isola made the decision to cut her hair. Currently, it was down to her waist, and made her pretty distinctive. Since being in Skyrim, her hair, which had once been a source of pride, was becoming a nuisance. She took her dagger, now clean of blood in one hand, and her hair in the other.

She cut her hair up to her shoulders, a strange sense of relief came with it, maybe it was the final symbol of her past removed, maybe it was the fact that if Elenwen was looking for her, she would be looking for an Altmer with long blonde hair.

Sleep took her quickly that night, she was exhausted from the day. Her thoughts took her to Astrid's instructions, and the passphrase to her new home played over and over in her mind.

 _Silence, My Brother._

 **A/N: This chapter is slightly shorter also, I didn't want to drag this out for too long, since I really want to get to the grittier parts of the story! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review!**


	7. Family

**A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry it's been a while, I've been busy with life and meaning to get back to the story! Please enjoy! :)**

"Ah, Sister. So good to finally see you. I trust your journey here was pleasant?" Astrid effused as Isola stepped into the Sanctuary. She wasn't used to being welcomed home, usually, when she came home back in the Isle, she would be greeted by either a worried or angry look from her parents, the only one who looked remotely happy to see her was Ormirion.

"So-so. Had to put down a few bandits along the way. Nothing I couldn't handle." She replied. She looked away from Astrid, who sensed something else had happened.

"You're holding back sister, what's troubling you?" Astrid enquired.

"When I was on the way here, I came across a dragon," Isola began.

"Uh huh, as I understand it they're becoming a bit of a problem."

"Well, I managed to bring it down, and something… strange… happened."

Astrid raised an eyebrow, wordlessly requesting Isola to continue.

"It felt to the ground, and caught fire, which from what I understand is a normal thing, but then… something else happened, just before it burned down to the bone."

Astrid's interest peaked, and she widened her eyes.

"There was this… rush, like a strong wind, and something left the dragon, something _huge_ and it went somewhere…"

"Where did it go, dear?"

"It went… into me." Isola could feel it now, writhing in the deepest parts of her body. She knew things which she didn't before, it seemed like when the dragon died, she absorbed all of his knowledge, all of his emotions… all of his very soul.

Astrid stared at Isola for a while, who was beginning to feel like she'd done something awfully wrong.

"Have I done something wrong?" Isola asked, more to break the silence than anything.

"No, no dear, on the contrary, I think you've discovered something amazing" Astrid snapped out of her thoughts. "Isola, have you heard of the _Dragonborn?"_

Isola the stairs into the main part of the cave, having spent the last hour with Astrid, who explained the Dragonborn legend to her, that she was a unique being, with the body of a mortal but the soul of a dragon, who was prophesised to defeat the World Eater, _Alduin._ Isola didn't think that she was legend material, she was more of a petty thug, in all honesty. Maybe a vicious killer, but a full-on legend? The Chosen One? Surely not.

The space she stood in now was far bigger than the one she was just in, with a waterfall in the centre, which pooled into a small pond. To it's left, five members of the Brotherhood were stood around a girl, who looked no older than ten. She was regaling a tale from contracts past, which seemed odd for a child. Isola soon realised that this wasn't a normal little girl, but a vampire. She couldn't help but note how young the girl was when she was turned…

The group soon heard Isola approach, and turned to look at her.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A Redguard man enquired.

"A new member of the family. How do you do?" An older man greeted Isola, though the greeting was a little sarcastic. "Do you speak? What is your name girl?"

"My name is Isola." She replied simply. "What are your names?"

Something was whispering in her ear.

A voice, no, _voices,_ ancient and unheard for a millennia. The hairs stood to attention on the back of Isola's neck, and she felt drawn to an old wall behind her.

The sound of her new associate's introductions became muffled as she focussed on the wall, she could feel them staring at her, but she didn't care. Slowly, she began to walk towards the strange, talking wall.

The voices became louder as she approached, speaking in a strange language she found strangely familiar. Isola put her hand to the wall, and immediately she felt a strange energy shoot up into her arm. It was a similar feeling to absorbing the dragon's soul, though far less intense. The newly acquired soul writhed inside her, and immediately she knew what the strange carving on the wall meant.

 _Krii, kill._

After Isola had apologised for her strange behaviour, and properly introduced herself to the group, all of whom seemed happy to meet her, until she introduced herself to Nazir…

"I would say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I have no intention of getting invested in someone who may be dead tomorrow." Nazir said, sounding almost bored. Isola was slightly taken aback by this statement.

"I can assure you, I know what I'm doing." She said coldly. "Astrid said you had some contracts for me."

Nazir narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. They're small time contracts, wouldn't have you going out assassinating any Jarls on your first day. You can complete them at your leisure. The targets aren't going anywhere." He smirked. "Oh, and you can turn them in all together or separately, doesn't matter how you do it. You'll be paid all the same… if you don't die or get thrown in prison."

 _He had to spit a little venom, didn't he?_ Isola thought.

Nazir gave Isola three contracts to start her off. A beggar, a mine owner and a former miller. Isola was shown around the Sanctuary by Gabriella, who seemed glad to have a new family member, unlike a couple of the others.

"Here's where we sleep, obviously. You can take this bed here" Gabriella pointed at a bed in the corner of the sleeping area. "You get your own chest with it too, try not to wake Festus if you get up in the night, he doesn't take disturbed sleep very well."

"I'll try to remember that," Isola said hesitantly. She'd been a little distracted since her encounter with the strange wall and it's odd voices, the word still buzzing around in her head. _Krii._

"Is everything alright, Sister? You look concerned." Gabriella enquired.

Isola took a deep breath, trying to think of an excuse for her silence…

"Do you have any advice for my contracts? I'm… a little nervous, don't want to get arrested and all that" She tried to make the last part sound up-beat, but it ended up just sounding like a shaky mess of words.

"Hmm," Gabriella put her hand to her chin, "How many people have you killed up to this point?"

Isola thought over the events of the last few weeks, she'd taken out some Imperials back in Helgen – purely for survival purposes, she'd stumbled across a couple of bandit camps in her time here too, and of course, she decorated Honourhall's walls with Grelod's blood. She must have a body count well into the thirties by now.

"A fair few, mainly bandits. Unplanned kills mostly too, Grelod was the first person I've actually set out to murder"

"Right, any particular skills? What weapon are you best with? Can you cast spells? Oh wait, you're a High Elf, of course you can cast spells." Gabriella said this so nonchalantly, it caused Isola to feel a little ashamed that her once brilliant magicka skills had been wasted away to nearly nothing. This wasn't the time to divulge her long history of family issues though, maybe she'd tell Gabriella in the future.

"I'm… best with a bow."

"Ah, a wise choice, stealthy kills and harder to detect. I'd definitely advise that, especially since you're new."

"But I'm out of practise, I haven't used one since I arrived in Skyrim."

Gabriella cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Isola, how in Oblivion haven't you had a bow since you've been here? It's not like they're uncommon."

"I… uh… well, honestly, it's because I can't find one as good as mine was, I had to leave it behind when I came here," Gabriella looked at her expectantly. "That's a story for another time though; My bow was a beautiful Elven one, it was a present from my brother, actually."

"Ah, sentimental about a bow, I understand. But why not get a new one? There must be plenty of Elven bows about."

"Honestly, I can't afford one. Not even a cheap long bow…" Isola looked at the floor, embarrassed. Stealing coin purses and other bits to sell on worked fairly well to keep food in her belly and a bed for her to sleep on, but it was never enough to buy a bow with.

"That'll come in time, dear Sister. Once you've completed a few contracts, I daresay you'll be able to buy an even better bow than – "

"Stormsong."

"… Pardon?"

"Stormsong, that was my bow."

"Right, anyway, you'll be able to buy an even better bow than _Stormsong_. For now, let's see if Arnbjorn will lend you a bow."

Narfi, Beithild and Ennodius Papius lay dead.

Isola had elected to shoot them all from a distance, not wanting to draw attention to herself and get arrested before her life with the Brotherhood had barely begun.

She stepped out of the cold, windy night into the Sanctuary. It was surprisingly warm for what was essentially a cave. As she descended into it's depths, she heard conversation, which wasn't unusual, save for a new, high pitched voice which seemed to dance around the stone walls.

The scene that greeted Isola certainly was one she didn't expect.

The other members of the Brotherhood, including Astrid, stood in a semi-circle around what appeared to be a jester, who in turn was stood in front of a crate, which stood tall and menacing behind the strange Imperial.

The crowd dispersed and Isola knew she'd missed whatever conversation they were all having, slightly disappointed, she turned to Astrid.

"New recruit?" She enquired.

"Well, not exactly." Astrid replied.

"Oh?" Isola cocked her head to the side.

"It's probably better if you speak to him yourself, we've all done our introductions, afterwards, may I have a word with you in private?"

"Of course," Isola agreed, and turned to face the new arrival, and his rather large crate.

Isola cleared her throat, and the jester whipped his head around, he seemed quite busy muttering to whatever was inside the box.

"Hello there," She greeted the man, who's face broke into a huge grin.

"Oh! Hello hello hello! Another Dark Sister! Cicero is very pleased to meet you!" He bowed low, and his hat fell off his head, which made Isola giggle. He swiped his hat from the floor and haphazardly placed it back onto his head, his red hair slightly dishevelled. "Oohh, the Elf lady finds Cicero funny, may Cicero ask the pretty Elf lady's name?" Cicero gave Isola a look which made her stomach do a little flip. He was a charmer, then.

"My name is Isola, it's nice to meet you too, Cicero." She tried to return the look, but she was fairly certain she failed miserably at it. Nevertheless, Cicero smiled at her.

"Oh! So polite! So kind to humble Cicero! I can tell we're going to be fast friends!" He began to dance on the spot, and Isola couldn't help but grin.

Isola chatted with Cicero briefly, before excusing herself to speak to Astrid. She found out that Cicero had come from Cyrodiil, and bought the corpse of the Night Mother with him. When questioned about her, Cicero gave Isola a look as if she had just vomited on his face. A mixture of surprise and disgust. He explained the tale of the Night Mother to her, and his role as Keeper, it was all very interesting, and though Isola wanted to hear more, she knew that Astrid wanted to discuss something important.

Isola stepped into Astrid's room, greeted by her boss's expectant grin.

"Dear sister," Astrid drawled. "come, take a seat." Astrid motioned to the double bed, and plopped herself down on one side, crossing her legs. It reminded Isola of the years she spent with Ormirion, sneaking out of her room at night and going to his for a midnight feast of sweet rolls, he used to sit in the same way…

Isola shook herself and sat down, mimicking Astrid's actions.

"Now, lets talk, pick up from where we left off. I think you're the Dragonborn." Astrid's tone was almost accusing.

"You said so before." Isola responded, "Have you further proof?"

"Undoubtedly, you are Dragonborn. There are no two ways about it, everything I've read and heard of the Dragonborn, you fit, the things you've experienced match up near perfectly to the ledgends." She paused, "can you shout?"

"Shout…?" Isola responded, incredulous, what was that supposed to mean?

"Can you shout like a dragon? Breathe fire? Kill things with just an uttering?"

 _Kill things. Krii. Kill._ Isola jumped up from her position, bolting out of the Black Door with Astrid on her tail. She ran into the forest, looking for something, _anything_.

It made sense now.

The word on the wall.

The dragon's soul.

The strange new knowledge that came with it.

 _Krii, kill._

 _Shout to Kill._

She came upon an elk, which began to run away from the two running women, Isola managed, somehow, to draw enough breath to catch up with the creature, closer, closer…

"KRII!"

The shout echoed off the trees, the deer staggered, it was a strange sight, it's short fur seemed to be glowing. It wasn't dead, but weakened, definitely.

Isola stopped at the creature, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Astrid caught up to her, equally winded.

"In…credible." Astrid said, before straightening up and slaying the elk. Isola supposed it was a kindness rather than leaving it out to suffer.

Astrid finally turned to face her.

"That was… amazing. Just… _incredible!_ You weakened it, down to it's last wisps of life, imagine doing this with our _contracts!_ It would… wait, no." Astrid's tone changed suddenly, and she was serious again. "We – _you_ cannot use your powers for Brotherhood business. It's too risky. Once people find out about the Dragonborn being one of us, they'll try and recruit you, and destroy the family. You don't want that, do you Isola?"

The Altmer shook her head, of course she didn't want any harm to come to her brothers and sisters.

"In fact, I think it would be best if we didn't tell anyone about this at all! As your leader, I forbid you from using your voice, unless it is a _dire emergency._ No one can find out about this. _No one can know._ Ignore all prophesies, do not fulfil your destiny until I say so. Have I made myself clear?"

Isola stood there in silence for a minute, unsure of what to think. Astrid had been nothing but pleasant to her since she arrived, made her feel welcome without question, and suddenly, she's telling her that she can't use these strange new powers that she was unaware that she actually had until about five minutes ago?

Isola thought it strange that Astrid would request such a thing, but, her new family's lives depended on it, if what Astrid was saying was true.

So she would keep quiet, for months after.

More dragons would attack, and Isola just had to keep her head down. She didn't dare go and try to help, even ignoring a call from the Grey Beards – gods only knew how they heard her voice from Falkreath.

The guilt gnawed at her, she felt awful that people were dying, where she could be preventing it, by killing the dragon and devouring it's soul, making sure the thing stayed dead forever.

She'd made fast friends with Cicero, as he'd predicted. Isola had confided in him about the whole debacle, even though it was against Astrid's orders. Cicero kept quiet, didn't spill a word of her secret. He was there for her when she needed consoling from the guilt that racked her.

Already, she was the worst Dragonborn in history.

 **This chapter ended up really long, but I wanted to use it to introduce Cicero, and address the fact that Isola is Dragonborn - someone commented a few months back asking if she was, so I thought it would be better to just submit the chapter rather than say yes or no before I was sure, if you're reading this, I wasn't ignoring you! I promise!**

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated! 3**


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